Cuba's Political Machine Sacrifices Another: Alejandro Gil's Trial Reflects a Recurrent Pattern

The espionage trial of former Economy Minister Alejandro Gil not only signifies the downfall of one of Miguel Díaz-Canel's closest allies but also highlights a longstanding pattern within the Castro regime: the ritual of creating internal scapegoats to shield the elite and distract from a nation in turmoil. This scenario, all too familiar, repeats with ritualistic precision. When the regime starts to crumble, someone is chosen to fall. This time, it's Gil.

On Monday, journalist Mario J. Pentón from Martí Noticias captured the political climate with a telling phrase: “In Cuba, the revolution always devours its own children like Saturn.”

This devastating accusation gains credibility when reviewing the careers of other high-ranking officials who, like Gil, were once elevated, celebrated, and eventually cast into the public fire when they no longer served a purpose.

Carlos Lage was the first to fall. Then came Felipe Pérez Roque, labeled as a traitor after being a prominent figure of the regime. Following him was Marino Murillo, who still enjoys privileges despite his role in the failed economic restructuring.

Each was turned into a disciplinary example, serving the revolution until the day it decided to sacrifice them. Gil followed this same path. As the face of economic reforms, he consistently stated that “the only path is socialism,” supporting every adjustment while the public endured endless lines and power outages.

His sister, Maria Victoria Gil, recalls that Gil didn't act alone. Everything was sanctioned by Díaz-Canel, by Raúl Castro, by Manuel Marrero, and the entire Political Bureau. Yet now, he is isolated and accused of being a CIA spy in a setup that even his harshest critics find implausible.

The political motive behind this sacrifice is clear. The country is experiencing severe economic collapse. Protests are a daily occurrence, blackouts exasperate the populace, and hunger is becoming increasingly severe.

The regime requires an internal enemy, someone to absorb the blame for a decade of mistakes, improvisations, and arbitrary decisions. A scapegoat is needed to mask the widespread incompetence of the leadership.

Meanwhile, Gil's family faces the ordeal's other side. His daughter, Laura María Gil, who was barred from the closed-door trial, feels "watched by a black car that follows her everywhere," according to her aunt. His wife was detained for four months, and their home was searched without warning; phones, documents, and computers were confiscated.

There is no transparency, no judicial guarantees, and no public access to the charges. The trial unfolds in complete secrecy, as demanded by a system that silences those who know too much.

The fall of Gil demonstrates once more the mechanics of power in Cuba. Those who sign off on decisions are the first to vanish when things spiral out of control. The revolution sacrifices its own to maintain the façade of order. As the nation falters, the Castro regime continues to consume those it once hailed as “the most loyal children of the homeland.”